


Flash

by dancey94



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e06 Dolce, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9322493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancey94/pseuds/dancey94
Summary: Before we die, we remember. Will remembers the last time he almost died.





	

It’s cold. He feels as if he was being crushed by something, something cold. There is no end to his pain and no words for it, at least none that he could think of, not at this moment when his brain is barely holding on to his consciousness.

Coldness surrounds him and engulfs him. It is an invisible force that has taken over him and he’s not even trying to defend himself. He lets it slowly consume him. And so, it does.

The pressure against his ribs is unbelievable. There is probably not one bone left in him that is not broken. He feels like a burnt match. His head hurts, it’s ablaze. Still, all he can feel is this maddening coldness. He’s suffocating.

It lasts a minute or two before he becomes numb. All of his limbs disappear, yet, there seems to be something heavy as lead stuck to him, making it impossible to reach the surface. He’s drowning. There’s no point in trying to keep his eyes open. The waves are crushing him and moving his unresponsive body.

He’s sitting by a long table laid for three. There is someone at the other end but he doesn’t care. There is a strap on his waist that keeps him in place but he doesn’t mind, either.

Next to him, there is a person he trusts infinitely.

Hannibal is dressed in dark clothes. But that doesn’t seem to matter as well. Nothing matters anymore. The details are all blurred and the ones he does actually pay attention to are meaningless.

He’s high. His head feels light and heavy at the same time. His brain is having a hard time trying to process what is happening. And, oh boy, what _is_ happening.

There is a hand, a slim hand of a man who is standing right beside him. And the hand is holding an electric bone saw. It’s switched on and is getting closer and closer to his forehead. Will senses that there is something wrong. The danger is palpable. But he cannot do anything. He’s strapped to a chair. But, to be honest, even if he wasn’t, he still wouldn’t do a damn thing to escape this situation. It was all his fault to begin with.

He came here out of his own volition, stepped right into the arms of the devil, being acutely aware of the consequences. He’d done it before, plenty of times. Somehow, he always managed to get out of it, with more or less damage and trauma. The scars all over his body are a proof of that.

Yet, he came again, running like a masochistic dog after his domineering master. _Please, take me back. I’ll be good_.

The saw is whirring and there appears to be some sort of harmony in this noise. But Will hears it as if from behind a window, a glass barrier, and the sound is somewhat distorted. The blade keeps spinning as it’s approaching Will’s head and it’s becoming more and more obvious that there’s nothing that could stop it now.

Words, faintly uttered, reach Will’s ears but he cannot see, he cannot force himself to care. There is only the noise, getting closer and closer. There is hope that the whirring will stop, that the window pane will shatter and Will will be released.

Something stings. Even though his body is completely numb, he can feel a prick to his forehead. And then, a trickle of some liquid reaches his eyes. It’s hellishly red. Somehow, in the haze of the unbelievable events and drugs, Will recognises his own blood. It’s being released from his body.

He can’t yet smell the metallic scent of it but he knows. Subconsciously, he has been registering everything. Perhaps, one day it will get to him. Perhaps, one terrible day he will remember.

It’s surreal. The drops of blood seem to flow in the air.

Will hears his name being called out. It’s faint and then, it becomes louder.

“Will!”

He opens his mouth and inhales loudly. The coldness has returned. He opens his eyes and sees.

Will sees the man whom he trusts infinitely. Hannibal. The face of the man who once wanted to saw his head in two and eat his brain. The face of a man who stabbed him right in the stomach while looking him straight in the eyes.

Hannibal is holding him. He’s keeping him afloat.

“Will…”

Their breathing is laboured. They are surrounded by freezing waters of the Atlantic Ocean. The shore is not very far but Will’s body is completely numb.

Ten seconds later, he realises it’s not the case anymore. It feels as if a thousand blades were stabbing him from all the possible angles. He groans and is ready to let himself go. It was how they were supposed to die after all. Why didn’t they?

“Will. I need you. I need you to try and stay conscious. Breathe for me.”

The sentences are short and there are pauses for catching a breath in between. Hannibal is barely hanging on. Will needs to make a decision – he can either help him and attempt to reach the shore by joining forces or he can say his goodbye and let Hannibal go. Maybe he will make it by himself.

“I won’t. I need you. Either we both live or we both die. Will. Don’t you know? We can’t survive separation.”

Will knows it hurts Hannibal to smile but he does, nevertheless. He’s that desperate; he’s that determined.

“Why can’t we just die?”

Will asks but inhales deeply and gathers all his strength to make it to the shore.


End file.
